


His Side

by WhosePOV



Series: Loners Together [2]
Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosePOV/pseuds/WhosePOV
Summary: Arthur likes to sleep on the right side of the bed. Joker prefers the left. Nicole is never sure where she’ll wake up, but not knowing is half the fun.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Loners Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768006
Kudos: 14





	His Side

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place between chapter 26 and the epilogue of Loners by Design. It references the first story, but also stands alone.

Arthur likes to sleep on the right side of the bed. Joker prefers the left. 

If Nicole falls asleep with Joker and he wakes in an Arthur state of mind, he won’t disturb her to switch places, but if it’s the reverse, he rolls her to the other side of the bed. 

The first time it happened, she groggily muttered, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Be a princess and let me have my side of the bed.”

“Arthur!” More awake, she tried to keep her temper, but didn’t fully succeed.

His green eyes widened, visible in the light of the full moon shining through their bedroom window. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“What do you mean? You’ve always. . .” Her voice drifted off at the sight of that eerie grin that was rapidly becoming familiar. A smile tugged at her lips and she nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.” 

Curling up on the opposite side of the bed, she closed her eyes. He slid close, nuzzled her hair, and rested a hand on her hip. 

Nicole won’t ever forget that night. The first of many similar nights.

It’s a good thing she isn’t picky about which side she sleeps on. Most people are obsessive about it. They get attached to things that mean nothing to her, like sitting in certain chairs or using specific equipment at work, but things like that don’t bother her. Other things--the kind of stuff that most people find insignificant--drive her nuts. Maybe that’s why she and Arthur fit so well together. They accept, or at least understand, each other’s idiosyncrasies.

Tonight, she’s in bed with Arthur. They’ve both had a long day, and she’s glad he doesn’t have a gig tonight. He can use the rest. They're watching an old movie-- _Top_ _Hat_. It’s a hot night, even for mid-summer, so they sprawl on their backs on top of the sheets. He’s in his briefs and she in a tank top and panties. She drapes her leg over his and he holds her hand, their fingers entwined. She’s removed her wedding ring for bed, but he’s still wearing his. The thin gold band looks good on his slim, long-fingered hand. Since they met, she’s felt the gentleness of those hands. She’s seen their dexterity, performing tricks during his clown performances. She’s also seen the damage those hands can do. She’s seen them glisten with blood. Just the memory of the morning Randall’s brother showed up at their house makes her shudder.

Joker hadn’t been in his suit and paint that morning, but he’d dealt with the situation. When Arthur had first created Joker--or when he’d first introduced him to Nicole--she’d thought he was a new clown, but the more she and Arthur talk about him, and the more he talks to Dr. Mitchell, it’s become clear that Joker isn’t new. He’s been there from the first. Much of Arthur’s behavior is learned--a struggle for self-preservation and an attempt to please others with the hope of fitting in. Arthur has often said that Joker is the man he wants to be. In the paint and suit, he fully inhabits Joker, but more and more Nicole sees him emerge without it. Looking back, she’d seen glimpses of him when they first met, but what’s the old saying? Hindsight is 20/20. Maybe it’s that way for everybody--the struggle between who we are and who we become. Nicole spent almost her entire life inventing ways to cover her own issues.

Before Arthur, she hadn’t been into touch. The idea of touching someone or being touched incited anxiety and even turned her off. When they met, that changed. It was as if they were made for each other. They’d both been inexperienced because they had difficulty connecting to people. Unlike Nicole, Arthur had longed for touch, and when she’d befriended Arthur, she’d finally wanted it, too. It’s not surprising that friendship had turned to romance.

Falling in love with him hadn’t been difficult. That’s not to say dealing with him wasn’t--and isn’t-- a challenge. He can be the sweetest guy in the world, but he’s stubborn. Once he gets something in his head, even if it’s bad for him, he needs to see it through. 

Then there’s Joker.

It’s not that he and Arthur are truly separate, but the situation is complicated. Nicole can’t fully wrap her brain around it, and that’s okay. Arthur tells her sometimes he can’t, either, but he has the support of his friends and family and Dr. Mitchell. 

“I love this movie,” Arthur murmurs edging a bit closer to her despite the heat. He tilts his head so it touches hers. 

Nicole’s stomach tightens and her heart beats a little faster. It’s funny how when you first meet him, Arthur doesn’t look like much. He’s like a painting that appears ordinary, but the longer you study it, the more incredible it becomes. There are details that turn something common into something exquisite.

She turns onto her side, raises herself on her elbow, and looks at him. His big eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes, fix on the TV screen. Smiling slightly, she trails her fingertip down the length of his nose. A faint smile curves his mouth and he slants his gaze toward her. 

Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, Nicole leans closer and kisses him. She rests a hand on his chest. A dusting of hair tickles her palm. He’s not quite as thin as when they first met, but he’s still really lean and probably always will be. 

Arthur rolls toward her. His wiry body presses hers to the mattress. Moaning softly, Nicole clings to him. Her hands roam over his back, feeling bone and muscle. There’s more strength in his thin body than one expects, but that’s typical of Arthur. With him, there’s usually more than what’s on the surface.

He nuzzles her neck and presses kisses to the swell of her breasts above the neckline of her loose tank top. Closing her eyes, Nicole enjoys his kisses and caresses, but it’s not fair for her to have all the fun. She reaches down to stroke him. He’s soft in her hand.

“Sorry.” He breathes against her lips. Insecurity darts though those expressive eyes. “I just--I’m kind of tired tonight.”

“It’s okay.” She brushes wavy brown hair from his face. Sometimes his medication affects his ability to perform. _Perform_. Nicole _hates_ that word in the bedroom. Making love isn’t that kind of act, like a concert or a basketball game.

“But I can still make you happy.” The shimmer is back in his eyes and another smile tugs at his lips. His warm hand slides beneath her tank to gently fondle her breasts. Again she closes her eyes and expels a breath of pleasure. He lifts the thin cotton shirt and flicks his tongue over her taut nipples.

“You don’t have to, if you’re not into it,” she murmurs, probably sounding insincere, considering her body’s enthusiastic response to his kisses and caresses.

“I’m always into touching you.”

His hand moves to her belly, rubbing warm, gentle circles over it. Then his deft fingers slide lower, beneath her panties, to where she’s slick and sensitive and craving his touch. He teases her until she's adrift in her own world of pleasure. Somewhere in the background, she hears the TV, but she can’t focus on anything except Arthur and what he’s doing to her.

He sits up only to tug off her panties. Then he settles between her legs, his thin, steely hands gripping her bottom and his tongue and lips where his fingers had been just moment ago. By now he knows exactly how she loves to be touched, and it takes just moments for her to climax. He doesn’t let her go and his mouth doesn’t leave her until she’s completely finished. Lying satisfied on her back, aware of nothing except the slowing of her heart and a warm breeze from the open window fanning her sweat-soaked skin, she hovers on the edge of sleep. 

Arthur settles beside her, his arm around her and his lips against her ear. “Goodnight.”

She thinks she answers, but maybe she’s already dreaming.

* * *

“Be a princess and let me have my side of the bed.” His voice is playful and his breath tickles her ear. His hand trails over her hip and dips between her thighs.

Nicole opens her eyes and groans sleepily. “Huh?”

“My side.” His lips graze her temple. 

She’s still half asleep, but she knows what’s going on. His hardness pushes against her bottom. He’s discarded his briefs. Oh yeah. She knows.

“Okay,” she murmurs, rolling onto her back.

He climbs over her, pausing to kiss her mouth before flopping onto his back with a sigh.

Closing her eyes, Nicole curls on her side and tries to fall asleep. Most nights she drifts off again pretty fast, but that’s not happening at the moment. She opens her eyes and squints at the alarm clock on Arthur’s night stand. At least he only keeps one, like a normal person. Nicole sets three, but right now they’re on _his_ side. 

It’s three in the morning.

Again she closes her eyes, but she hears him breathing. Is that the sound of skin on skin? She rolls toward him.

“Not tired?” she asks.

“Not at the moment.” There’s a smile in his voice.

Nicole’s hand glides over his prominent ribs and along the inward curve of his stomach. She covers his hand while he strokes himself. The warm ridge of his wedding ring is smooth beneath her fingertips. 

“Let me,” she says softly, kissing the center of his chest. She rests her cheek against it, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. “I still owe you for last night.”

“Yeah.” That smile is still in his voice. He releases a breathy laugh that hitches a little at the end. He rolls toward her, pinning her to the mattress. This time there’s an almost predatory look in his eyes. It makes her pulse race. His hardness pushes against her. The tip of his tongue flicks over his lips.

“Lie back.” She pushes him, but he resists, still grinning, that stubborn look in his eyes. When he’s in this mood, there’s no telling him what to do. It’s better to ask him. “Last night was all about me. I want to make this all about you. Please?”

His lips part and he draws a breath, hunger in his expression. All about him. He loves that, and she likes to make him happy.

Watching her from the corner of his eye, he settles onto his back. One long, thin arm stretches upward and he curls his fingers around the headboard. He’s not in his paint, but she can almost see it. It’s funny. There are times when he’s in it, and she can’t see it at all. 

She straddles him, wiggling her bottom against him until he groans. Leaning forward, she kisses him, moving slowly down his sinewy body, using her lips and tongue to explore every bone and muscle. By the time she settles between his legs, his breathing is ragged. His heart beats hard beneath her palm. She sweeps her hand from his chest to his groin and then she clasps him, teasing him with her mouth like he’d done to her just hours ago. 

His narrow hips jerk. Panting, he buries his fingers in her hair. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm. It doesn’t matter. She’s not going anywhere. She rolls her tongue over him, draws him deeper--takes everything he has to give. 

His raspy cry of fulfillment turns to a burst of raptor-like laughter that ends in a breathy, contented sigh. “I want a cigarette.”

“You told me you finally quit.”

“Sweetheart, I tried and I lied.”

Nicole tugs away from his slack grip.

“Don't leave,” he murmurs, gazing at her through half-closed eyes. “I won’t smoke in here.”

Nicole smiles, rolls her eyes, and shakes her head. “Be right back.”

She doesn’t take long in the bathroom, and when she returns, he’s still on his back, eyes closed, looking so completely relaxed that she thinks he’s asleep. When she climbs into bed, he pulls her into his arms.

“I thought you wanted to smoke?” she teases, snuggling closer.

He mumbles something incoherent and his breathing deepens. 

Smiling to herself, Nicole shuts her eyes and wonders which side of the bed she’ll wake up on tomorrow.

The End


End file.
